The Benefits of Falling Overboard
by Raz'nDazzle
Summary: My name is Craig Tucker and I sincerely, completely, utterly loathe family vacations. And my life, but that's to be expected. Warning: Slash, het, hormonal teens and general awkwardness.
1. My Name is Craig Tucker

**_Hey there, we are Raz and Dazzle and this is our first fic (at least that we've published). And now that we've said hi there and hello, on with the show...er, story. Cheers!_**

My name is Craig Tucker and this is not a diary. Now that that's over with, I guess you're wondering what a guy like me is doing writing down useless shit in a notebook like this. Normally I would just flip off the guy who asked and continue whatever I'm doing, as I've just done to Clyde because he keeps trying to read over my shoulder.

Whatever.

I started writing when I was in third grade and I've been keeping journals ever since. It's become a habit really. Of course, everything is sort of habitual for me. If it's not, then that's way too much excitement for one day. That's really the reason why I'm so pissed about going on this retarded vacation.

Oh, forgot to tell you. I picked up this notebook at the dollar store the other day because I felt that going on a shitty vacation meant an awful lot of useless information to cram in here while I'm away from civilization and all of my asshole friends. I'm guessing I'm going to be spending a whole lot of time on my own attempting to stay away from my parents and the most annoying little girl in the world. Ruby is not adorable, Clyde, she is Satan. Her pigtails even look like devil horns. Not kidding.

On my previous topic, I seriously don't see the fun in leaving home for 15 days in order to go traversing the globe on some big ship. Tweek might be rubbing off on me, but I swear that it's going to sink. I'm just that fucking lucky.

Maybe watching _Titanic_ last night was a bad idea, but it was a requirement.

Now before you go calling me a fag for watching _Titanic_, you should know that I really don't like guys. I just don't like girls either. I figured this out last year during an irritating episode involving an empty soda bottle and everybody's favorite game. There was quite a bit more involved, but I really don't want to get even more pissed off than I already am. Fuck this pencil for breaking all the goddamn time. I'm getting a pen.

You may be asking why watching _Titanic_ was required. Clyde got dumped yesterday, and it's become a tradition that whenever Clyde loses a girlfriend, he comes sniffling to me and I buy him ice cream and let him cry into my shoulder and maybe blow his nose on my shirt if it's really bad. Then we watch _Titanic_ while I clean my snotted-up shirt (which is disgusting). We always fall asleep on the couch and I always wake up early the next morning and push him off of me because he always starts cuddling with me while we sleep. Then I kick him until he wakes up and he tells me that I'm a jerk and that he wants tacos dammit and I tell him that all we have are Eggos, and he immediately bolts upright and says that he loves Eggos and races into the kitchen with the biggest grin on his face and whatsername is completely forgotten.

As I told you before, I am a creature of habit.

Yeah, he really is that much of a pussy when it comes to relationships, thus leading to Tweek thinking that he and I are together. If I ever start dating Clyde, I will know that I have hit rock bottom. Not eve

HEY! This is Clyde, Craig's bestest friend =D Just wanted to say that he's really a big huggable teddy bear inside...deep inside...and he's seriously ocd. Like, seriously. And hey! I'm an awesome boyfriend! Anyway, I hope Craig doesn't damage your virgin pages with too many scary words.

You _are_ a Bob the Builder notebook, and I don't think you want to be near his bad languagie-ness. Anyway, Tweek wants to say hi, too!

Er...hi? I don't think Clyde realizes that you're a...a notebook. Sorry if I've, um, offended you? This is way too much pressure! How will I deal with Clyde while Craig is gone!

I wish Clyde would stop stealing my stuff. And it's not my fault that the only notebooks they had at the dollar store were Bob the Builder...and Barbie. At least the stupid construction worker is better than some plasticized slut. I'm really going to have to do something nice for Tweek when I get back.

So, I should probably be packing for the trip, but I am really not looking forward to this. Apparently it's supposed to be a family reunion or some shit, but I'm not buying it. I only have one uncle, my dad's brother, and one cousin, his daughter Rebecca. She's a year older than me, an inch shorter than me, and five times louder than me. I call her Red because Rebecca takes too long to say and gives the impression that I actually care enough to say her full name. Lucky me, I'm sharing a room with her and Satan on the cruise ship. I'd say fuck my life, but it's already been screwed senseless.

Life, stop being such a whore.


	2. Why Flying Vehicles Should be Shot

**_Alrighty, so this is just one more exposition chapter and then we'll get into more interesting endeavors, muahahaha. Read, review, regurgitate random quotes, whatever, we'd love to hear your thoughts (especially Dazzle because she seriously worries too much about what people think of our amazing writing skills) And now that I've probably lost all of your attention, enjoy :)_**

If I have to sit in this plane for one more minute, I am going to go fucking postal. Mom and Dad are in the seats across the aisle from me and Satan is sleeping with her head on my shoulder. My grandma decided to tag along on this little excursion as well, and is sleeping behind me. I can _feel_ her snores. Seriously. My seat is vibrating.

Dad still looks pissed about the fight I had with him last night. I told him that I wasn't going on this retarded vacation with the family because, frankly, I hate planes and ships and going places and I really just loathe my family and sucky excuses to combine everything that makes life miserable into one giant bundle of shitsicles. Word for word, I said that to him. You should have seen the enormous range of emotions he went through in the minute after I told him.

First shock, probably because I rarely say more than three syllables to him at a time. Next, anger at me for being so adamantly against his "marvelous" idea, not to mention the fact that I basically told him that I hate my family, which isn't completely true. Sometimes. After that, he seemed to get this weird determined look on his face and proceeded to prove me wrong by use of his favorite finger. Which happens to be my favorite finger as well, probably the only thing we have in common.

I returned the motion and he reverted to fury and began to scream at me at the top of his lungs, which is about the time that my mom stormed in and began to yell at him for yelling at me. He flipped her off, she flipped him off, I flipped her off because I can handle my own problems, they both flipped me off because they were arguing and it was none of my business, other than the fact that, you know, it was. I slipped out just as Satan wandered in and flipped them both off because she was busy watching fucking _Red Racer_ and they should respect that, seriously.

Immediately, my parents stopped fighting and looked down at the she-devil, who blinked up at them and pouted a bit. She may be Satanic, but sometimes that kid can actually be somewhat helpful. Hell, I even agree with her sometimes.

Especially the _Red Racer_ thing, because honestly that show is the shit. Don't even doubt it. I'm still proud of myself for getting her addicted to it instead of allowing Red to taint her mind with _Jersey Shore_. I don't understand how anyone can call that shit reality tv. The only thing realistic about it is how stupid people are. Which is basically the whole show. I take back what I said, I understand entirely how that can be counted as reality.

I feel lame for saying this, but I already miss Clyde and Tweekers. I can just imagine Tweak freaking out about the likelihood of gremlins eating the pilot's eyes out and causing the entire plane to fall out of control so that we lose altitude and go into a tailspin and run into the side of a cliff where the whole plane will erupt into a ball of fire. As he's shrieking about this and effectively making all of the other passengers nervous, Clyde would eat everyone's peanuts and pretzels, flirting shamelessly with any girl who walks by, extra points if she's a hot flight attendant.

They're rubbing off on me, I think, especially Tweek and his paranoia. Normally, nothing phases me, but I've been feeling awfully apprehensive about the whole plane-ship-going to third world countries thing. What if the ship does run into a rogue iceberg? What if this plane does have snakes on it and Samuel Jackson isn't here to save me? What if I end up getting hooked on hard drugs and end up selling my body on street corners in order to get a hit?

Shit, what am I even writing? There's no way in hell any of that could even happen. There are no icebergs near the equator, there is no way I would ever whore myself out for drugs and there are no mother-fucking snakes on this mother-fucking plane. Gods, I think I need to spend less time with that spaz.

Just to clear things up since (as I've stated before) most people seem to have this idea that I am gay and Tweek is my secret lover, we're not. As I said before, I'm pretty sure I don't have the capacity to fall in love or something equally cliche and retarded.

On top of that, Tweek is straight. Seriously, the kid has all of the usual male-teenage hormones and fantasies that any other healthy heterosexual guy past puberty has. He just freaks out a bit more than most. Just because he's really skinny and short and looks slightly effeminate does not mean he's gay. It simply means that he has a fast metabolism, drinks too much coffee, and has messed up genes that make him look more like his mom than his dad. It's not his fault that heredity decided to fuck him over. Give the kid a break.

I have got to stop rambling, I just wish I had something to do. I wish I could sleep, at least. I like monotony, but not being able to move your legs for four fucking hours would make anyone go bat-shit crazy. It's gotten so bad that I actually feel the need to do something random and loud and completely not Craigish. I'm actually wishing Clyde was here.

Well, just in time it seems we're about to land. Thank god, I thought that I was actually going to have to strangle myself with my seat belt. Shit, my shoulder hurts. Who knew Rubes' head was so heavy? Jesus-fucking-Christ. I hope Uncle Skeeter and Red suddenly can't make it. My life would immediately suck less if I didn't have to deal with her and her retarded father.

Satan is waking up. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that her sleepy yawn face is sort of cute. But I do know her better, which means that I realize how evil she is. If you had been there last year when she set my entire dresser on fire, you'd understand. She tried to kill me. Fucking pyro.

I'd wish for her to die in a terrible fire, but I get the feeling she'd get some sort of kick out of that.

Yours until my sister isn't a freaky little psycho, Craig


	3. How I Became an Atheist

**_Hey, sorry it's been so long, craziness has ensued and quite a bit has happened this summer. **_This is actually Dazzle talking for the first time. _** We'll probably (read: hopefully) be uploading more onto here since school's out, but I can't make any promises. Anyway, Raz and I own nothing, it all belongs to...way more people than can be properly named at the moment. Also, next chapter will have more of the characters you know and love, this is the last of the exposition crap. Anyway, read, review, flame, whatever. Hope you enjoy :)_**

It's official. I no longer believe in a god. My prayers went unanswered and I am now stuck with the entirety of my family.

I have also decided that since complaining is getting me nowhere, I am simply going to ignore it all. Because I, Craig Tucker, am apathetic like that. Yeah.

Anyway, after we got off the plane in Florida and caught a bus to the general vicinity of our hotel, my parents decided that food should be the next thing on our to-do list seeing as my sister looked ready to jump up and latch onto someone's face and eat them if we didn't get to a restaurant pronto. Commence bickering and use of the magical finger since my family can't agree on anything.

Finally, my mom gave in and we wound up eating at somesuch place whose name I never learned. All I know is that it was filled with way more people than is healthy in so small a place, was louder than an army of Clydes, and the food, if you could call it that, was so covered in grease that my fries looked and tasted more like overcooked noodles rolled in evil than anything. I couldn't even eat my burger.

My dad is a cheap-ass bastard. I'm still amazed that we're even going on a cruise, seeing as they're so expensive.

After our meal, Uncle Skeeter and Red met us at the hotel and I attempted to keep the two girls relatively docile as the adults drank beer and talked about whatever they talk about. I'm trying not to remember the conversation that I did hear, I don't need to think about my dad and Skeeter prancing around in tutus on a dare. That's just sick. And wrong. On so many levels.

So, dealing with the girls actually went fairly well, which is a happy thing. Satan was pretty sleepy, because apparently the four-hour plane nap wasn't enough, and she fell asleep watching...some cartoon. Red wasn't so easily subdued.

She's always been way more touchy-feely than the rest of our family, probably got it from her mom, and therefore spent the first half-hour or so hugging me in some way. She then asked me how my boyfriend was. Which was awkward seeing as I don't have one.

I told her this and she giggled, punched me in the arm (I would have punched her back but I am a gentleman...and punching her would show that she got to me...which she didn't because I don't care), and asked me how Tweak would feel about that. I told her that Tweak would probably feel just dandy about that seeing as he likes girls, which I am not. She gave this weird smile and then stayed quiet for a long while, which was quite welcome.

We talked for a bit longer until Uncle Skeeter walked in drunk and half dressed and asked where we kept the turmeric. I'm surprised he even knows what turmeric is. I kindly shoved him back into the hall and directed him towards his room.

Since Red had taken over the bathroom and I didn't know when to expect her coming out (and she doesn't exactly knock or anything) I changed in the (very small) closet. I have a pretty nice bruise on my head now from the bar the clothes hang on, and, of course, leave it to Red to joke about me literally coming out of the closet afterwards.

I slept on the couch while the two girls slept in the bed together. I fell off the couch halfway through the night and banged my arm on the coffee table. I'd say that someone up there doesn't like me, but I just declared myself an atheist and that would be kind of contradictory. So instead I'll say that I have sucky luck and leave it at that. I mean seriously, why me?

We ate breakfast at a diner that actually wasn't disgusting for once and then headed to the docks to catch our ship. Called the CoralZone. Just to make the trip extra cheesy (it can be a zone of coral or you can take out the L and it's "corazone" as in "heart", geddit?). Because apparently lame puns make the best ship names. Actually, scratch that, I don't even think that can be called a pun. It's just a lame attempt at some sort of literary device. Which I'm not thinking of because I am currently on vacation and therefore English doesn't matter. Thusly, I disclaim any and all errors in this journal.

So we're on the ship now and it's just about to leave port and then we'll be on our way. I feel nauseous. If I get seasick, I'm going to dive off the back of the ship the way Rose attempted to. Only Leonardo DoCaprio won't be there to save me, so I'll actually die.

I really need to stop comparing my life with that movie. It can't be healthy for a teen boy to imagine himself as a chick flick heroine. I think that kind of came out wrong. Whatever.

So, they're about to run a safety drill, I should probably stop writing so that I can learn what to do in case we do hit an iceberg and the ship goes down...okay, I'm seriously stopping it with Titanic now.

Tell you more when I feel like it. Probably tonight. Fuck off. Craig


	4. How to Get Your Ass Kicked with Dignity

**LOL. So, I just realized that in our retardedness last night, we called Red Mandy because we had been interrupted by my (Raz's) annoying older sister by the same name. Sorry for the confusion.**

**So, I Raz a_nd I Dazzle_, hereby disclaim all things pertaining to South Park as they belong to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. We also do not own Mountain Dew, Cthulu, extreme muscles, satan, Dante's Inferno or the seven levels of hell. Cheers :)**

My cousin is a bonafide idiot. It's certifiable. I'm pretty sure she actually has audio dyslexia. Which exists. Shutup. You'd think the girl would understand what "No" means. Seriously, she's eighteen. It has two letters and a pretty straightforward definition. I hate her. So much.

Last I wrote, I was about to go run that safety drill. That's where the awkwardness began. As a background, I look nothing like the rest of my family. My mom is blonde and blue eyed and my dad, uncle, sister and cousin are all gingers, creepy, soulless eyes included. I somehow managed to be born black-haired and grey-eyed. And no, I'm not adopted. If I was I would be so happy. But I'm not. Whatever.

Anyway, for the drill we had to grab our life preserves in super-sexy shades of dayglow orange and offered in bulky, super-bulky, and suffocating and then meet out in this hallway. Which was on the floor above us and at the opposite end of the ship. Because that's where you go in case of an emergency. As if we won't be drowned by that time. Some idiot really didn't think the emergency escape route all the way through.

So as we were waiting in the hallway for someone to come and explain safety precautions to us since the staff seems mostly comprised of scatterbrained douches, I decided to pull my signature hat down further over my eyes and attempt to look like an apathetic teen who really isn't interested in anything you have to say, thank you very much.

I'm very good at this, since I am, in fact, an apathetic teen who really isn't interested in anything you have to say, thank you very much. It worked very well at deterring people until Satan began to dig her nails into my leg because she was bored and Red started tugging on my hand and whispering random shit into my ear. Suddenly, she started giggling and jumping up and down and, in a disturbingly loud squeal, whispered, "Look at that hot guy over there, ohmygawd!" I made an honest effort to ignore her, but then, in the same loud whisper, she said, "I think he's your type."

I growled something that I'm pretty sure was the best comeback ever, if I could remember it, and looked up a bit while readjusting myself on the wall (I'd slipped a bit from my leaning position after hearing her idiocy). True to form, I found my eyes locking with a pair of shockingly blue irises. The blonde guy across from me grinned a ridiculously creepy grin and lifted an eyebrow. Something in the guy's creeper face struck a chord with me.

Fortunately, it was at that time that one of the aforementioned scatterbrained staff douches came in and proceeded to inform us of the (mostly) worthless shit we were supposed to do in case the ship sank. No, I don't think that this ugly, chunky vest will save my life from certain death, so sue me.

We had an uneventful dinner, thanks be to the nonexistent lord, which Red was more-or-less silent throughout and I made plans for the rest of my night. Go to the room, shower, brush teeth, watch tv while hanging up clothes, write more in journal, sleep. It was a good plan. A really good plan. An excellent plan. It's just too bad Red's a stupid asshole who doesn't know a good plan when she hears it.

This is where we come full circle and find out why Craig was talking about Red's idiocy at the beginning in the first place. So after dinner, I began to head back to the room. Red ran up next to me and told me about this special teen club that was located on board. It sounded extremely lame and cheesy. It also sounded like a perfect diversion for the loudmouth.

I told her how great it sounded and how much fun it would be with a faux bright smile and then resumed my trek back to the room, visions of a nice, quiet, Red-less night drifting through my head. Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm and I was made aware of an annoying female voice saying...something and Red was in front of me with a questioning look on her face. When my blank look made it apparent that I had no clue what she was doing and why she wasn't somewhere else, she asked me, for a second or third time apparently, "Umm, where are you going? The club's in the back of the ship."

I'm pretty sure I had made it clear that she would be going alone, so I told her that she should have fun and (eurgh) tell me about it later. She glared at me and told me I was going and I told her that I was tired and had a headache and would be no fun anyway, being, by nature, a boring person and would only drag her down. The resulting battle of wills was cut short by Satan barreling into my leg and massacring my shins before bounding off again.

Red, ever the conniving bitch, grinned at me and pulled the "Satan is hyped up on creme brulee and Mountain Dew and will therefore be extra violent tonight" card. I told her I didn't care and attempted to walk back to the room for a fourth time.

The escape was cut off by a vice-like grip on my wrist and then Red was dragging me down the hall shouting about how much fun we were going to have and that I would need to come out of my shell eventually. For my part, I simply held onto my hat and swore to never, ever, come on a family vacation ever again.

We got to the TeenZone! and saw a little sign on the door. It read "Nobody 18 or older allowed in TeenZone!". I almost leapt in the air laughing hysterically. Almost. My revelry was short-lived, however, since it seemed that Red (who turned 18 less than a month ago) had already thought this through. We walked in, her hand still gripping mine which, try as I might, I could not free.

There was a guy in a garish TeenZone! polo who seemed to be in charge and I suddenly found myself being pulled towards him by the psycho holding my hand. "Hello," she said to him in a, dare I say it, playful tone, leaning over the table he was sitting at. The awkward looking guy stared at her and a small part of me felt sorry for him. A very small part. The rest of me was just happy that she was finally making someone other than myself uncomfortable.

While she was sidetracked flirting with the guy in order to get him to allow her in despite her age, I was able to pry my hand from hers and was about to walk back out the door and down the hallway when I ran into what looked like Cousin It. It squeaked and dropped whatever It was holding, then quickly knelt to pick whatever it was up. It spun around and I was faced with a short Asian girl with extremely long, dark hair. Apparently I had run into her from the back. She was holding a sketchbook.

I muttered a sorry and made to head out again when the girl said, "Fight with your girlfriend?" in a worried voice. I spun towards her in shock and, I'm dead certain, made a very ungraceful sound in the back of my throat. She was looking at Red talking to the TeenZone! douche and I was faced with the dawning realization that the girl thought Red and I were dating. I gagged. I mean, shit, I'm still gagging. That's disgusting. And vile. I told you that I look adopted.

"No," I replied, "I don't have a girlfriend, therefore fighting with one would be difficult."

The girl spoke in a soft, consoling voice as she told me that she understood why I would be jealous and jump to conclusions seeing as my "girlfriend" was currently flirting quite outrageously with polo guy. I told her that she actually didn't understand at all and that Red was my cousin.

She immediately blushed and said multiple "sorries" in quick succession. "You just looked so affectionate walking in holding hands," she said, smiling wistfully, "I wish my brother was so sweet." I made a second choking sound in my throat, and attempted to leave again with at least some of my dignity intact.

"My name is Esther," yet again, my plans of leaving that hell-hole were thwarted. "Esther Stoley, and you are?" I answered her, allowing my boringness to shine through. Apparently the girl missed it though because she gave me this glazed over look, as if in deep though, then smiled gently and asked me to come sit by her on one of the boxy, plasticky couches that covered the brightly colored room. She then explained that she wasn't usually so clingy, she just didn't have any friends and I was the first person who had spoken to her or even noticed her at all.

I contemplated telling her that I had only spoken to her because she was blocking the door, and had really only noticed her because I had literally run into her on the way out, but I saw the earnest look on her face and decided to sit with her just until she either met someone else or became comfortable enough on her own. She had attempted to help me after all, even though she hadn't known that I didn't need help in the situation. She seemed okay, at least. Less annoying than most girls. I mean, hell, I can be a nice guy. Maybe.

She sat and I awkwardly took a seat next to her, disconcerted by the springy furniture and expecting her to start a conversation or something. Instead, the girl opened her sketchbook and began scritch-scratching away. I thought of standing up and leaving since she seemed content to ignore me and draw, but I didn't. Something about her had set off flashing lights in my head and I had the distinct sensation of a thought attempting to niggle it's way from the depths of my memory, a place I kept heavily padlocked for various reasons.

Just then I felt the sofa dip down slightly next to me, squeaking a bit in that cheap, plasticky way that cheap, plasticky furniture does. I turned to Red, or at least who I expected to be Red.

Instead, I found myself going through a weird deja vue as I, yet again, locked eyes with a disconcertingly blue pair. The same from earlier. The blonde boy gave an easy smile. I didn't like it. Shutup. Turning away quickly, I tried to look absorbed in watching Esther draw over her shoulder. The blonde kid just seemed like the type of annoying person I wouldn't get along with. I was right about that though, in hindsight.

"So," I heard the guy speak from behind me, "I hear I'm your type." I shot him a dirty look over my shoulder and noticed that he was still grinning in that weird way that no human should be able to. And no, it was not attractive.

"Sadly," the guy continued, he cannot take a hint, "I prefer titties." At this, I turned to give him my best, "Nobody cares" scowl.

This doubled as a way to get a better look at him though and I noted that he was wearing a pullover the color of which could have rivaled that of the life preservers. It's sleeves had been torn off in what seemed like some terrible accident and there was a large, green clover appliqued across the chest. Yes, I did just say appliqued. So what. Again, that little thought in the back of my head attempted to wriggle forward, as if I knew the kid. I was pretty sure that, had I met him before, I would have tried to forget him.

"Ay! Kinny!" came a voice from the doorway, "What're you doing sitting next to that fag?"

At this, my blood ran cold. I knew that voice. Of course I knew that voice. How the hell can anyone manage to not remember the tell-tale drawl of the one and only Erik Cartman?

It was at that moment that I realized exactly who I was seated next to. I looked over at Kenny McCormick and flipped him the bird, then got up to leave. I started speedwalking towards the door, but Cartman blocked the way. I stared impassively at the bulk of the guy known as Fatass before realizing that he was, in fact, no longer morbidly obese. In fact, he looked more like he had been living on a healthy diet of nails, raw eggs and intensive workout regimens. Probably violent. I didn't want to know. "Who are you douchebag?" Cartman asked, simultaneously to Kenny's questioning, "Craig?"

Picking up my pace in order to get the fuck out of there, I was just about to slip past Cartman when I felt someone grab me by the back of my all-weather hoodie. I was swiftly spun around so that I was facing Kenny. "Dude, Craig, it is you. I should've realized what with the hat. Fuck, dude, I didn't know you were gay."

I meet two of the fucktards who I loathed in elementary school on a cruise that I don't want to be on and the first thing they both think is that I fantasize about men. How lucky am I?

As with the _Titanic_ thing, I am now stopping with the rhetorical questions.

My thoughts had apparently diverted my focus yet again and I came back to the real world. And to the most awkward silence I have yet experienced. Before I could fully wheedle my way out of Kenny's grip, Cartman seemed to shake himself of the shocked expression that had been frozen on his features during the extent of the silence and let loose the most horrified shriek I have ever heard. It was the type of shriek that would make Cthulu cry and send eardrums to their bloody doom.

"THE FUCK? All those times Craig! I trusted you! I called you my friend! I let you into my house! And all you ever wanted was to fuck me? FUCK ME?"

As Cartman continued his hysterics, going on to expand upon such things as sleepovers and what a sick pervert I was, I viewed my surroundings, only to find every pair of eyes trained on me. And Cartman. Somebody even had the audacity to give me the stink-eye. I didn't return it. And then I felt a pair of arms being slung around my neck and Red popped up with a, "That's it, Craigles. Embrace the gay!"

Somewhere inside of me, deep, deep, inside of me, something finally snapped, actually, splintered would be more accurate. It had been at the breaking point for years and this was the final straw.

"Cartman, even if I were gay, which I won't even try to disprove since you're not worth the effort, even if I were absolutely desperate, even if you were the last living thing in the universe, from every parallel dimension from here to infinity, I would not be interested in you. I would cut out my own heart with a rusty spoon, mince my eyeballs, put them in a blender and drink it from my own skull before going through every level of hell mentioned in Dante's Inferno rather than fuck you, you fat, ugly, retarded, son of a whore piece of shit."

And then I found out in full contact, high-definition with stereophonic sound where all those muscles came from. As the two of us were bodily dragged from the TeenZone!, the taste of blood in my mouth, one eye swollen shut, and comfort in the knowledge that I had gotten in at least one good kick to Cartman's balls, I heard yet another familiar voice coming from a red and green blob at the exit. "Holy shit, I've been wanting to do that for years."

The remainder of the night was spent in a painful stupor, but I couldn't help smiling from the knowledge that I had not only said everything I ever wanted to say to Eric Cartman, but I had single-handedly ensured that I would never return to that hellhole. That said, goodnight.

**PS: liithiium, Mandy thinks Craig is gay because she's actually Red (our bad, sorry) who just thinks Craig's gay because she likes teasing him. Kenny heard because she wasn't exactly quiet when she said that thing about him being Craig's type, Cartman heard Kenny say, "Fuck, dude, I didn't know you were gay," which Kenny only said because he hadn't heard anything from Craig in a while and was trying to start a conversation based on what he had heard and joked about earlier. To your last question, all will be revealed next time.**

**Sorry it was confusing, he was writing after being beat up and then getting doped up on painkillers.**


End file.
